


The Caged Fey

by Eldritch_Heretic



Series: The Syldi Chronicles [1]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Blood, Blood and Torture, Bondage, Minor Character Death, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trauma, Vaginal Sex, i'll add more as it comes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Heretic/pseuds/Eldritch_Heretic
Summary: Syldi is a pure blood fey under the control of Nikolaos. She was captured in a deceptive way and now has to serve under a new master. This is the story of Anita Blake through the eyes of one of the oldest beings on the planet. This is my first public work.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I in no way own the characters of Laurell K. Hamilton. I wanted to tell the story through an original character. There will be dialog from the books in the series, but only if the original character was involved in the situation. The beginning is rough so a word of warning to anyone sensitive to torture and death. I am always open to constructive criticism or bringing my attention to any discrepancies to the story line. Nothing I've written is meant to offend, and it's strictly for entertainment purposes. I follow the old saying: "Write what you want to read." So this is a story that I wanted to read. The actions in this work in no way reflect the type of person that I am. I hope you enjoy.

There was darkness and cold wrapped around her body. Chilled iron grasped her wrists and pulled them upward connected to chains while a tethered collar kept her head down. Her knees were scraping against stone as she struggled to stand upright. She opened her eyes and looked around to see a dungeon with a single torch on the back wall. Her vision was blurry and tired. The muscles in her back screamed in pain from the weight of her body pulling at her shoulders. Through her veins she could feel the poison pulsing with the beat of her heart. It was in the wine she drank earlier. What happened? She shook her head trying to remember.  
  
They had come from Ireland to St. Louis to meet with the master of the city. Mabon, her lover and Master of the City of Galway brought her at the behest of their old friend Lucas. There was a dinner. The master, Nikolaos, was charming and pleasant. They spoke in length about the international relations and laws in the United Kingdom compared to America. Even Jean-Claude, someone whom Mabon and her had known for centuries, admitted that America was better in their justice systems. She remembered how wonderful it was to see them again, Lucas and Jean. Then everything went dark.  
  
Now she was here chained to the floor and ceiling. Someone knew how to poison a fey. She was Syldi, a Firbolg from Inis Ealga, the Island of Destiny as it was known in the time of her people. She was an ancient being older than the gods of Egypt, but here she was captured with cold iron and poisoned by Rowan wood ash. Where was Mabon? There was something deceptive about this entire trip. Their people have to be somewhere. Their lycans, vampires, half fey were with them. A party of ten at least. It was her responsibility to keep them safe. They were her charges. What happened to them? An ache began in her chest and spread to her stomach. She couldn’t lose them.  
  
Syldi pulled at the chains and groaned. She was too weak. Tears pricked at her eyes and her throat became tight. She struggled and strained. The iron was too much even for a drugged fey. Her mind tried to reach out to Mabon, Donnic, Cait, anyone. There was silence. The last thing she could do was feel out for the contract written on her heart. The words seeped through onto her chest. Someone was still alive if the contract was intact. A small bit of relief, but for how long. Thousands of years of living and she was caught in a well thought out trap.  
  
The door creaked open revealing figures silhouetted from the light in the hall behind them. Nikolaos appeared as she entered followed by Burchard. Aubrey and Winter came through carrying someone whose hands were bound behind them. A flash of straight chestnut hair told her it was Mabon. More came in behind them: Valentine, the masked vampire; Theresa; Lucas, and finally a woman who Syldi didn’t recognize. They deposited Mabon in front of her and she looked up into his face. He had been overpowered and beaten. She wasn’t sure how they had subdued him.  
  
“Mo shíorghrá,” he said hoarsely to her trying to lean close. Syldi pulled against the chains. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Isn’t it lovely to see such romance even in the face of death?” Nikolaos’ voice carried over them. She moved over to stand beside their heads and placed a hand under their chins, turning their heads to look at her.  
  
“I love it when a plan works out. Shall I tell you how this came to be?” She giggled and Syldi jerked but the child’s hand was clamped onto her jaw.  
  
“It was Lucas, wasn’t it?” Mabon said quietly. Nikolaos laughed again.  
  
“You grasp the situation quickly, Mabon. We made a deal. He came to me a broken thing after leaving Ireland. He saw how you had everything and to covet something so great, a weak man is willing to do anything. So he told me about your greatest treasure: a full blood faerie. Not just any fey, but a Firbolg.” Syl looked past the tiny master to see Lucas relaxed against the wall. He was smiling. His eyes were hungry and he knew he was close to getting his wish.  
“So naturally, I had to have this treasure to myself. Why should a young master have something he doesn’t deserve? That’s why I’m taking her and giving Lucas Galway.”  
  
“No!” Mabon yelled and struggled as much as his strength would allow. Syldi tried to reach out with her power to help him. Something was keeping her in a bubble. It explained why she couldn’t feel her company. She looked around and saw the unfamiliar woman. Squinting her eyes she saw the wispy purple aura around her swirling in tendrils around Syldi.  
  
“You’ve brought a witch,” Syl whispered looking straight into Nikolaos’ cold grey eyes. Another giggle escaped her lips. She let Syldi’s head go and walked to the woman.  
  
“I found someone who is extremely knowledgeable in the fey. She can guarantee your bondage and servitude. If it doesn’t work, then she dies.” The woman looked at Nikolaos and became more determined.  
  
“I can bind whatever I wish. I’m a hag, not a witch,” the woman said stepping forward and Syldi could see beyond the visage of blonde hair and green eyes. To most she came off as a model with perfect makeup and ethereal beauty, but now she was a crazed looking old woman with hair floating about as if underwater. Her eyes appeared white like one who is blind. The skin was stretched taut over the skull showing sharp angles and drawn back lips. Syl gasped and struggled against the chains. Hags could redraw contracts and snip the threads of fate on people. She wasn’t sure how Nikolaos found one.  
  
“Stop this!” Mabon yelled and pulled against Aubrey and Winter. They held firm. Nikolaos grinned.  
  
“I’m ready when you are,” she said looking at the hag. The woman moved forward and drew a silver blade from behind her.  
  
“We have to break the contract between Mabon and Syldi,” she said putting the blade to Mabon’s chest.  
  
“No, no, no, no NONONONO!” Syldi screamed and thrashed with all her might against the chains. The iron shackles dug into her hands and neck, breaking the skin and burning into the wounds. Mabon looked at her. His eyes were black mirrors filled with sadness as he breathed, “I love you.”  
  
The blade sank into his chest. A scream tore from his throat and he collapsed. Syldi could feel her heart explode in pain as the contract appeared on his chest, knife digging deep. She cried out, long and shrill. Tears spilled down her cheeks as blood seeped down her arms and chest. The woman jerked the blade from Mabon’s chest and with a quick movement of her arm, his body went slack as his head was cut from it. There was a loud crack and blinding light from his and Syldi’s chest as the etched scripts dissolved. Everyone backed away as her power shot out past the bubble and her screams cracked the wood on the door. Her body began to shift, the glamour melting away. Before their eyes was the fey in all her glory.  
  
Syldi’s body grew to 7 feet, her skin became a rose gold shade that was shimmering with sweat. The dress she wore ripped down the seams to make room. Doe-like ears folded out of her hair while the bridge of her nose widened along with the tip. Her eyes became larger, more almond shape and the color nothing but pearlescent dark teal. Primal fangs elongated in her mouth as she roared. Lastly, a set of iridescent wings unfolded from her shoulder blades. They reflected the light of the torch in a golden tone with elaborate veins winding throughout. She was an image of legend before them, an elf out of her time.  
  
There was an atmosphere of terror throughout the dungeon as the onlookers kept their distance. Even Nikolaos stayed close to her human servant. Lucas was already by the door, Theresa and Aubrey huddled in the darkest corner while Winter let Mabon’s body fall and backed up pressing against the doorway. The only one who didn’t move was the hag.  
  
“Her voice is affecting your mental status,” she said looking around. “The contract is broken and she’s reacting. We have to bind her power in order to make the new one. Someone please shut her up!” Valentine stepped forward pulling his handkerchief from his coat pocket. With superhuman speed her wrapped it around her head, muffling the screaming. Syldi’s muscles were starting to burn from the straining. Her face was streaked with glittering teal that was her tears.  
  
“This is the messy part,” the hag said. She motioned toward Lucas who opened the door and reached out into the hallway. Syl stared at Mabon’s headless body and grieved. Her entire body heaved as if she were going to be sick. The nerves along her limbs on were on fire. Everything was a void except Mabon. His severed head lay beside him on the floor facing away. A noise pulled her attention to the right.  
  
Lucas was pushing a cart that held what appeared to be a large cast iron bowl that contained burning embers. No one said a word as the hag walked over and lifted a pair of tongs that were lying beside the bowl. She used them to shuffle around in the embers to retrieve what looked to be a glowing stick. Syldi jerked on the chains again to no avail. She knew exactly what the hag was planning.  
  
“A fey’s power is magnified by their wings like antennae. That’s where they get their speed, their strength. It’s a symbol of their bloodline and nobility. Take that away and they are a shadow of who they were. The power will be on the same level as a master vampire. She’ll be more manageable.”  
  
“Are you going to do what I think you are?” Nikolaos asked with a hint of dubiousness. The hag lifted what looked to be a knife with no shine to it. A pang of fear shot through Syl and she began to whimper through the cloth. Her eyes were pleading with the hag and anyone else who was looking, which was very few.  
  
“Master,” Theresa’s voice came from the dark corner, “do we have to stay for this?” Nikolaos thought for a moment looking around at everyone.  
  
“No. You are not required to witness this unless you feel the need to stay and assist.” At that Theresa, Aubrey and Winter left. Valentine and Lucas came to stand behind Syldi while Nikolaos stood in front, blocking Mabon’s body from view.  
  
“Nikolaos, if you would please take this,” the hag said holding out the knife. The child vampire reached out and grasped the handle. “Cut your left palm and hers. Clasp your hands together and recite the contract to her.” Syldi glared at Nikolaos who seemed to avoid her gaze as she pulled the blade across her hand. She reached up and held Syl’s. The fey refused to unclench her fingers.  
  
“It will be easier on all of us, if you let me make the contract,” the master of the city said looking down at Syldi’s face.  
  
“Eíbhleann,” Lucas said from behind her and Syldi froze as power washed down her from head to toe. It held her still while she waited for a command. He had used her true name and by law of her people, she had to listen. “Open your hand.” She fought with all her might against the ancient magic, but her hand opened on its own accord. Nikolaos sliced open the skin and clasped their hands together. She looked the fey in the eye and began to recite.  
  
“I, Nikolaos, call you, Eíbhleann, to be my servant. I am your master from henceforth until the contract is broken. You will answer only to me and your true name. I sign this contract with our blood bonded as one.” Syldi watched as patterns appeared on their hands. Vines etched their way up Nikolaos’ arm to her chest. White lightning shot up Syldi’s arm and slammed into her heart. She grunted as the words of the contract began to carve themselves into both hers and the master’s chest. Once the last letter was imprinted, there was a flash and Syl cried in pain as she felt the words wrap around her heart. Nikolaos gasped and touched her sternum. Their hands fell away from one another. The fey went limp in the chains and wept. Everything was numb. A void was created where her soul should have been.  
  
She felt someone grab a wing and pull up so it was straight out. The cold iron blade pressed into the joint connecting the wing to her. She jerked at the sudden pain and began to scream again and the knife cut into her, separating the muscles, tissue and bone. Hot blood poured down her back and legs to the floor. There was a soft *pop* noise and a weight was lifted from her right side. Her eyes widened as they began to remove the left. There was no voice left in her to scream. It was a silent cry into the room. The hag moved behind her and there was an intense heat sliding into the wound. She heard chanting from the woman as the iron rods were placed into her back. They were meant to keep her from healing her missing wings. Syldi felt her power weaken to almost nothing. The shackles were heavier on her wrists and neck.  
  
There was darkness dancing at the edges of her vision. Her head dropped down and she let it take her, praying for death.

 

Two days later Jean-Claude found her. They had kept her in the dungeon chained to the floor. Her wounds healed but not without leaving scars around her wrists and the two lines on either side of her spine. There was nothing Jean-Claude could do for her except hold her. He wept for her, for Mabon, and for her family that they had brought. He cried the tears that she could no longer spill forth.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willie informs Nikolaos of Anita's refusal and the conspiring begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing bad happens in this chapter! Yay! It's an intro to get things rolling. The next chapter will be longer and we might see Anita.

Syldi sat on an ornate pillow with her back against the side of Nikolaos’ chair, her knees pulled up to her chest. The air was warm from a fire burning in the hearth across the room. Torches lit the walls, the light dancing with the shadows in every corner. Theresa sat on the floor painting Syl’s toenails a pretty rose gold. Nikolaos herself was leaned over the arm of the chair watching. The fey’s breath came slow as not to disturb the iron chain hanging down her front from the torc-like ring around her neck. White blond hair caressed her cheek from the child vampire above her. It caused goosebumps to appear down Syldi’s arms in waves.  
It had been three months since that night they captured her. Everyone knew it would be difficult on both sides. In the first two months there had been at least ten attempts at escape and one at suicide. Syldi gave up at taking her own life at the request of Jean-Claude, the only one who tried his best at helping her. He had been punished a few times in assisting her with escaping, one time which resulted in the death of Lucas. Nikolaos had every area covered. The hag ensured it. A bond had formed between Jean and Syl. They both lost Mabon. After two months she found small comforts in being in his company, and then she made the decision if she were going to meet her goal, it was best to calm down and wait for her chance.  
  
“Burchard made a wonderful color choice,” Nikolaos giggled, “Don’t you think?” The laugh made Syldi cringe. Theresa glanced up not noticing and gave a small smile.  
  
“It matches her hair almost perfectly,” she answered her master and finished up with the last toe.  
  
“Sit in front of me, Syldi,” Nikolaos said moving back into her chair. “I want to paint your fingers.” Syl moved as not to ruin her freshly lacquered toese to sit before her mistress. The sheer silk dress flowed around her like the caress of the wind. Her wardrobe now was soft, flowy dresses in shades of pinks and reds. She was like doll for the master of the city to play dress up with. Everyone’s inner child never really leaves.  
  
Nikolaos smiled and with one hand took the bottle from Theresa while the other placed Syl’s left hand on her thigh. There was a flash in her mind of those hands clasped together. She tried to push the thought down along with the bile that was rising in her throat. There was never a battle that she fought that had the same effect on her as the night in the dungeon did.  
  
“Sing something for us.” Syldi thought for a moment then opened her mouth. The sound that floated out into the room was mesmerizing. It was as if the notes were dancing around tickling against your exposed skin. The melodies could put the meanest beasts at ease. At least it used. The scars still ache when she tries.  
  
A knock on the door gave Syl a startled jump. Nikolaos grabbed her wrist with that ancient speed to hold her in place. She made a *tut tut* noise and the grip tightened enough to make the fey wince. An angry look passed over her face as she looked at the figure entering the room. Willie McCoy stepped in and bowed low. Syldi could sense the anxiety pouring from him. The newly dead were awful at hiding anything. Theresa made a humming noise that went up in pitch having it known someone was in trouble.  
  
“Willie,” Nikolaos said quietly. Her anger carried through the whole room. “You’ve spoken with the animator.” Willie stood but kept his eyes on the ground. Syl hoped he had good news considering their master still had a painful grasp on her arm.  
  
“Yes, master. Anita was pretty adamant about not working for vampires. I told her she shouldn’t have declined, but the bitch wouldn’t budge,” he said and risked a glance upward. There was a squeeze of the hand and Syldi whimpered. The undead child looked down at her for a moment before throwing her away from the chair with such force that Syl would have crashed into Willie if the iron chain hadn’t snapped taut. She let out a choked noise as the ring slammed into her throat. Her body landed in a crumpled heap in front of the lackey who looked terrified. Syldi coughed and struggled to catch her breath.  
  
“Look at what you’ve caused, Willie,” Nikolaos yelled, the nail polish falling to the floor. Willie fell to his knees with his hands clasped together. “Theresa, put William in his coffin. I almost broke my favorite plaything.” The black haired vampire pulled Will to his feet and led him out another door. He didn’t say a word.  
  
“Eíbhleann.” She heard the name spark out through the air. Syl had no choice but to move and acknowledge when someone used her true name. Her mistress smiled. “Come, let’s finish your pretty nails.” Syldi crawled back and picked up the polish. Her eyes flicked toward the door where Theresa and Willie disappeared to see Jean-Claude walk in. He stopped when he saw the fey, bruise blossoming on her neck, crawling toward Nikolaos.  
  
“Jean, I am glad you’ve arrived,” the master said taking the polish and Syl’s hand again. “I need you to get me Anita Blake.” She went back to painting.  
  
“I am assuming Willie didn’t succeed in getting Ms. Blake to help us,” Jean-Claude said watching.  
  
“You assume correctly. You recommended her to us, and I think you should be the one to bring her. Since the animator threw our invitation right back in our faces, she should know what she is dealing with.” Syldi watched Jean-Claude as he listened. She knew he didn’t like where this was going, but his face stayed neutral.  
  
“Aubrey and yourself should be able to get her here somehow. When you do, put her in one of the dungeons. I’ll make her learn to fear me.” Nikolaos’ hand moved under Syldi’s chin and made her look up into those cold grey eyes. “If I can get a Firbolg to obey, a human will be no problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mo shíorghrá - My eternal love
> 
> Syldi is a Firbolg. Not the race from Dungeons and Dragons, but the race of people who inhabited Ireland before the Tuatha De Denann.
> 
> Keep up with updates on the tumblr. tumblr.com/blog/eldritchheretic


End file.
